


Irish Exit

by killaidanturner



Category: Real Person Fiction, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killaidanturner/pseuds/killaidanturner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The irish exit refers to the departure from any event without telling any friends, associates or acquaintances that one is leaving. It is almost always the result of being very inebriated/intoxicated.</p><p>Or, the five times Aidan left drunk without saying anything and the one time he said something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irish Exit

**Author's Note:**

> ummm fjlkasdfal;df idk read it bruh

**i.**

 

It’s during filming. Everyone has been invited for a night out since they’re free of filming the next day. 

 

Aidan watches Dean, the way he leans into others, how he welcomes small touches. He knows that Dean doesn’t mind these things because Aidan has done them himself. Let his fingers trail across the back of Dean’s neck, let his knuckles brush the back of Dean’s hand. 

 

He makes his way to Dean, taking a seat next to him. He sits so their shoulders are pressed against each other. 

 

Dean leans into him, whiskey rolling off his tongue and his eyes glazed over. “You’ve been so good to me ever since I came on set. You know that right?” He smiles lazily up at Aidan.

 

“Could be better.” Aidan says with a smirk behind a wine glass. 

 

“How so Turner?” Dean smirks up at him as he leans closer, close enough that if Aidan were to lean down he could close this ever expanding distance between them. 

 

Dean’s phone rings. “Oh sorry mate, got to take this.” Dean pulls away and ducks away from the table and to a corner of the bar where he whispers in the dark.

 

Dean’s mouth isn’t his, and Aidan’s lips aren’t the ones for Dean to kiss but Aidan wants, he wants too much. He feels an irrational anger building inside, spreading through his capillaries. He tosses money onto the table, everyone else too wrapped up in their own conversations. 

 

He leaves with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

 

* * *

 

 

**ii.**

 

It’s their first premiere together. They’re in Wellington and they don’t leave each others side. Aidan finds comfort in Dean’s presence, in his smaller frame and the way his hands stay shoved inside his pockets. Aidan mirrors the image, always giving a piece of himself a way to Dean.

 

They answer questions and Dean lets Aidan talk for most of them, his eyes always watching Aidan as he speaks. Aidan plays like he doesn’t notice but his mind is always focused on it. He worries that the interviews will have him stumbling over his words, that he will look nervous and out of place with the way he runs a hand down his chin when trying to think. When trying to think about anything than the man standing next to him. 

 

After the red carpet when the movie starts they sneak out of their seats and to the bar area. They laugh and make jokes about if anyone noticed, and if they did what people would think of them. 

 

Aidan drinks a wine and Dean ever faithful to his beer has one pressed between both of his hands. 

 

He wants to tell him what he feels, that Dean is something bigger than him. That what he feels is transcendent. He doesn’t know how to find the words. 

 

When he goes to open his mouth, they’re interrupted. 

 

“Hey, sorry I’m late, was wondering where I would find you at.” Her voice is melodic, sing song as she leans down and kisses Dean on the cheek. 

 

Dean smiles up at her, the way that Aidan wishes he would smile at him. He doesn’t notice Dean’s tight lips or the restraint when he says, “glad you could make it.”

 

He lets them get wrapped up in each other, the way that Aidan wishes he could wrap himself in Dean. 

 

The movie ends and the bar area fills with cast and crew and an uncountable slew of other important people. Aidan slips out with his tongue numb and his mind heavy.

 

* * *

  
  


**iii.**

 

Aidan can do this. He can tell Dean how he feels. It’s just another premiere, another city. Berlin. 

 

The scent of Dean still lingers in his hands. The way that Dean lets himself fall into Aidan, into his carefully planned touches. 

 

He thinks himself a wishbone, fragile and ready to snap, being pulled in two directions. There’s the part of him that is screaming that it’s not what Dean wants but there’s a part of him that is saying fight, fight fight, you can have this. 

 

He thinks that tonight's the night that he will tell Dean. Tell him about his dreams, about his long nights filled with wanting. 

 

He has a shot of liquid courage, then another to make it count, on more to loosen his tongue. Aidan wants to tell him that Dean’s hand running up his spine feels like dying. That Aidan counts the pauses between his breaths, that his listens for the flickers in his heartbeat. 

 

He gets to the premiere, only to find Sarah clinging to Dean’s arm.

 

Only to find a ring resting on her engagement finger. 

 

He does his part, he talks on the red carpet with Dean at his side. He says what he thinks people want to hear and he tries not to take notice of Dean’s gaze, of his ever wandering eyes, of the pauses between his breaths or the heavy sighs. 

 

His grief is wild, howling inside of him and trying to tear itself out. Later that night when Dean tells him of the engagement, when he smiles and retells of how she said ‘yes’, Aidan tries not to let it feel like claws digging into his skin, sharp and leaving him empty. 

 

When they are at the after party, when Dean is surrounded by people and Aidan is too many shots in and wishing for something more than alcohol, for something powder white and thing, he leaves. 

 

He leaves with a heaviness on his tongue and wildfire burn roaring through his veins.

 

* * *

  
  


**iv.**

 

No one knows about them, this half buried secret of want. Something that is buried alive and kicking and screaming. 

 

Dean asks to take photos, asks for Aidan to pose a certain way. They’re at a hotel in L.A., nerves on edge and tensions high. They don’t talk about the night before, their drunken words and how their lips almost brushed. Almost, not quite close enough. 

 

They don’t say anything about it but their eyes keep finding one another. It's something always teetering, neurons firing. They look at each other with lust filled eyes, ready to gorge themselves if this thing between them would just explode. 

 

He’s so in love, the way he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He doesn’t know if he should use them to brace himself for the fall or use them to feel the steady beat of Dean’s heart. Nerve to nerve, beat to beat, synapses to synapses. Everything in unison. The thought terrifies him.

 

That night they drink again, they drink and drink until their hands are fumbling and their lips are close enough they can feel each other's liquor coated warm breath. Until Dean’s hands are in Aidan’s shirt and he’s pulling him down until their lips meet and Aidan is a wreck of it. Until his movements are nothing but shaking and pure ecstasy of wanting to conquer. 

 

Dean pulls away. “I’m sorry, I thought I could but I can’t. I keep thinking of her.” 

 

Aidan doesn’t respond, doesn’t nod his head in understanding. Instead he grabs his coat and lets the door to Dean’s hotel room slam shut.

 

* * *

**v.**

 

“I heard you were here.” Her voice is soft as he pulls on the thin fabric of her wedding dress. A long cotton blend gown, simple and elegant.

 

“I have to see him Wils.” Aidan’s voice cracks, his features wrecked from two days of spontaneous travel and too many drinks during the layovers and on the flights here. His skin sweats and his hands shake.

 

“I can’t let you, not today. You got the invite months ago and you never responded Aidan, you didn’t say a word. Now you just want to show up here? At our house?”

 

“I love him, you know that. For fucks sake I think everyone knows that but him.” Aidan practically shouts it.

 

“When you say you love him do you understand what that means Aidan? The way you destroy your liver, how it calcifies, is that love? Is you destroying yourself love? I love him, I care about him. You left him. He used to stay awake at night wondering what happened between you both but I know. I saw the way he looked at you. I saw both of you and the way you’re always reaching out towards each other. All these small little gestures, this silent communication. Don’t do this to him, don’t come here and think that you’re going to give him something because you can’t. He watches your interviews, all of your press. He asks mutual friends about you and I’m sorry if you think drinking is helping you but it clearly isn’t and it won't get him back.” He’s never seen her his way, his thin hands in fists. He sees what Dean sees in her, her fragile frame, her long beauty and sharp features. “Just go home Aidan, no one has to know you were here, and for his sake try not to kill yourself with alcohol poisoning.” 

 

The words strike a chord with him, but not enough to deter the drinking. Not enough to stop the slow deterioration of his insides. It's only enough of a distraction from the way his heart feels as if it’s beating irregularly.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**The One Time He Says Something**

 

It’s not too long after, about over a month after the wedding when Aidan sees Dean again. He’s at his place that he purchased in Cornwall, convenient for filming and not somewhere that a lot of people know about. 

He has a bottle pressed to his lips when he hears a knock at his door. 

 

He’s spent the past month filming and all of his free time touching the skin of others and letting alcohol flow through his veins. He lets out a sigh as he goes to open the door. 

 

It’s not what he was expecting.

 

He looks at him with eyes that seem to see everything, and his thumb is stroking Aidan’s cheek and Dean is whispering the words, “I know,” and Aidan is leaning into his touch and for all the pain that was between them Aidan wished that he didn’t know. That he didn’t know the shape of his jaw, how his collar bone feels between his teeth.

“If you know then say it then, say what you know.” 

 

“That you love me.” 

 

“Always have.”

 

“We really fucked this whole thing up.”

 

“We?” Aidan asks as he takes in a sharp breath as Dean’s feet step closer to him, their bodies touching chest to chest.

 

“We. It took both of us, cause fuck Aid, I love you. I was fucking stupid for thinking otherwise. Stupid for all this shit that didn’t happen between us. We both fucked up.” 

 

“What do we do?”

 

Dean lets out a small laugh, his hand falling to rest on the back of Aidan’s neck. “I’m here, if you’ll have me. If you want to work past all this dumb shit we did to each other, I’m here.”

 

“You’re here.”

 

It’s not how either of them thought it would be, a love declaration on the Cornish coast. Aidan leans down to him, their lips finally meeting. 

 

He doesn’t know how they’re gonna work it out but at least this is a start, at least Dean is here with him with warm lips and warm hands, and breathy moans with Aidan’s name on his tongue.

 

**Author's Note:**

> for the feel of the fic i was drinking the whole time i wrote this :)))) and i spilled rum and apple cider on my carpet, someone pls send help. forgive the grammar, i'm pretty lit


End file.
